Vivian landed on hands and knees in the middle of the field of sheep. His stomach growled at the thought of fresh blood. He folded the tattered remnants of his wings and remained hunched over, half-crawling towards the closest woolly animal.
The farmer is inside, take his blood.
Go away.
These sheep won't fill you. All they'll do is increase your blood pressure.
Vivian's stomach gave a lurch at the thought of draining a human. Every instinct was telling him to sneak into the house and drink the farmer's blood. He couldn't do it. It was wrong, but oh Gods how he wanted to.
He latched onto the sheep and clung to it. It bucked and struggled, almost sending his malnourished body to the ground again. He clung tighter, feeling through the think wool up to where the animal's neck. He didn't want to do it: he had to. He closed his eyes and pulled himself closer to its neck. His teeth sank deep into its arteries and the blood gushed into his mouth. He sucked at the artery, unable to quench his starvation fast enough.
Vivian continued sucking long after the animal had died and all the blood was gone. He then began sucking at stained fur for anything that had got away from him before looking for his next meal. The sheep were terrified, huddled into the opposite corner of the field. He needed more though. One was not enough after weeks without anything. Heavens! He had even tried to eat a carrot, which had left him screaming with indigestion.
He was well into his second sheep when shouts echoed through the warm night air. He couldn't leave though, he needed the blood.
You need blood, here's your chance.
No, I won't drink human blood.
You should kill them before they kill you.
No, I'll finish this sheep.
They're coming. Kill them, KILL THEM!
Vivian took on a defensive position as the men came closer. He was crouched low over the sheep with his wings folded back. The wings would only get in the way and they were already tattered to the point that he could only fly half an hour at a time, which he had already done in coming here. He didn't want them to get any more injured.
If he fought them he might draw blood. If he drew blood his cravings would get worse. One and a half sheep were not nearly enough to quench his thirst. 'I don't want to fight you,' he called. 'I just needed food.'
The farmers did not look impressed; they looked like they would want a fight. He kept edging backwards but they just came closer until finally they had him encircled. He shifted uneasily and tried to look for a way out. Even his wings wouldn't get him up fast enough and trying would just leave him more vulnerable, if that was possible.
Vivian struggled to stay away from the men coming in closer until... one man attacked, followed by another. He defended himself as best as he could but the men managed to pin him down and tie him up. They weren't too gentle about it either. As the fragile bones in his wings snapped he reverted back to his normal form. He now looked in every way like a normal human, other than being too skinny and gaunt but that was because he had been starved.
When he woke, Vivian found himself locked in a room full of foul smelling straw. His first thought was that his mother had caught him and started shouting, clutching at the bars and generally panicking. A guard came over and pushed him back to the floor and ordered him to settle down. The fact that the guard was human calmed him. That he could handle. He quietened down and curled up.
Another guard came over and bashed the back of his gauntlets on the bars of Vivian's cell. Vivian stood up, resigned to whatever fate there was in store of him. He was told that he had been charged with theft of sheep and was being sold as a slave to pay for his crimes. Anything was better than being with his mother so Vivian nodded as the door was unlocked. He was shackled and manacled to a row of about ten more soon-to-be slaves. Most of them looked like hookers or were a lot larger than him. The men seemed to be having trouble following orders and received stout blows to various parts of their body.
The slaves were to be taken outside to a stage where they were to advertise themselves and be sold. When Vivian realised this he stood still. He couldn't go outside in the sun. If he went out there any exposed skin would be blistered in about ten minutes.
'You there, move along.'
'I can't. I'll be burnt.'
The guard came over and pulled Vivian forward so that he could look into his face.
'Please. Just give me something to cover my face and hands.' The rest of him was covered in long, tattered clothes and a cloak. The cloak was once very fine but was not as tattered as his wings were at night. There were places where he had tried to patch it up, in the same pattern as patches on his wings.
The guard found hessian bags and pulled it over Vivian's hands and head. He would not be able to see but at least he would not burn.
The slaves went outside and stood in a row in front of the crowd, which he could here talking and heckling over prices. Vivian was pushed forward to be the first to speak.
'My, um, my name is Vivian and I can read and write most languages in the world. I'm also an,' he was about to say Aswang but paused. He didn't want to be found or bought by anyone who might have any contact with his mother, 'I'm a vampire. I don't drink anything but animal blood though. I was caught stealing sheep and didn't defend myself.'
You disgusting excuse for an Aswang! You refuse to drink human blood and now you deny your heritage out of cowardice. Enjoy slavery you worthless sack of blood.
I don't need you. Leave me.
Vivian shifted uncomfortably, trying to adjust his cloak slightly. There wasn't much else he could say about himself. He would be happy with anyone right now, so long as they didn't tie him naked in the sun.
The guard gave an annoyed grunt, 'who's to bid? One loyal vampire up for grabs. Feed this creature up and he'll protect you in a fight or fly you to safety. Any bidders?'
